Mentalist Episode Tag: Red Lacquer Nail Polish, 5x15
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Takes place post episode, then goes decidedly AU from there. I don't want to give away the surprise in the summary, so please read on. Spoilers, 5x15.


Normally with episode tags, I try not to go too AU, because I don't want to take away from the episode, only add to it or answer some questions the writers left hanging. But I couldn't resist "going there" with this tag. You'll see why as you read.

Let me say though, that it was another nice episode, mostly lighthearted. A little over-the-top with the Rigsby dating service, but it gets my hopes up high for a future Rigspelt reunion. Despite the warm fuzzies, I'm afraid this is the calm before the upcoming storm. Oh, and the real star Sunday night had to be Simon Baker's hair. It was so beautiful—I love it when they touch up his blond highlights. Just sayin'.

**Episode Tag: "Red Lacquer Nail Polish," 5x15**

Lisbon knocked on the door to Jane's attic hideaway later that night, after everyone had left the building. He'd been up there "pursuing" Red John all afternoon, and she was frankly starting to worry. Ever since he'd gotten that clue from Lorelei, that he'd met Red John sometime in the past, it had brought him to new heights of obsession. He'd even made one of those creepy tack and string maps that you only find in the homes of people who look for black helicopters and believe the government was responsible for 9-11.

"Come in," called Jane, after a moment or two of hesitation. She frowned and slid open the heavy door.

Jane was sitting at his desk by the window, casually sipping tea. He swiveled his chair around to face her.

"Well, that's a relief," she said.

"Hmm?"

"You haven't broken out the tinfoil hat quite yet."  
Jane grinned.

"Aw, Lisbon, don't be a hypocrite." He nodded toward the string covered white board. "You're always saying there's nothing wrong with doing good, honest police investigating, not leaving things to guesswork. Clearly that's what I'm doing. You've seen my list. I'm scouring it with scientific precision. You know that several of the people on there are truly plausible candidates."

"Maybe."

She moved closer to lean against his desk, crossing her arms before her as she eyed the board skeptically.

"Tea?" he asked politely.

"Sure," she said with a sigh. She hiked herself up on his desk—the only other place to sit besides the rickety cot against the wall—and watched in amusement as he opened his drawer to access his tea bags. A glimpse of a familiar magazine caught her eye.

"Hey," she said curiously, "isn't that the magazine you were reading in Dr. Reinhartd's office?"

His face froze a moment, then he shrugged. "It was an old issue. From last May. No one will miss it, I'm sure."

She grinned suddenly. "You must have swiped it on our way out so you could finish reading that article. What was it called…_How to Drive Her Wild in Five Easy Steps?"_

"I was joking about that. There was an article about sailing that I—"

"Let me see that," she interrupted, reaching for the magazine, narrowly avoiding getting her fingers crushed as he quickly closed the desk drawer.

She thumbed through the pages until she found the article, which he—or _someone_-had actually dog-eared. She laughed at the title again, then glanced at Jane, who was clearly not sharing her amusement.

"Lisbon," he said, and a rare, light blush touched his high cheekbones.

"No, wait, let me just skim through to the good parts."

"Please don't." He said softly, but she ignored him.

It was nice to find something to tease him about for a change. God knew whenever he discovered one of her idiosyncrasies, he never let her forget about it. Her eyes scanned the page until she found the bold type that pronounced the first step.

She cleared her throat dramatically. "Step number one: 'Touch is very important to a woman. Touch her often, not just in the bedroom. Touch her shoulders, her lower back, her arm. Take her hand as you walk. If you put true emotion behind it, she will sense it, and it will pay dividends in the bedroom.'" As she'd continued reading, her voice had gone from amusement to keen interest.

"Hmm," she said. "That's actually pretty good."

Jane merely raised an eyebrow. There would be no stopping her now, unless he physically tried to wrest the magazine from her. He sipped his tea, and settled in for the lecture.

"Step number two: 'Look deeply into her eyes whenever you can, even if you're just talking. She will feel like you are seeing into her very soul. When you are uh, making love, the experience will seem much more intense, and you may begin to feel as if you can actually read her mind and anticipate her every desire. She will feel it as well.'"

Lisbon snorted skeptically. Jane remained silent, watching her, his eyes focused on her lips as they formed the words, noting how they trembled a little when she'd said _making love. _ He smiled a bit, and nodded at her to continue, his initial embarrassment quickly giving way to unexpected captivation.

"Step three: 'Find her own unique erogenous zones. It could be behind her knees, the bottoms of her feet, the nape of her neck. Usually the places where she is ticklish are the places that are most sensitive in the throes of passion.'"

"Are you ticklish, Lisbon?" he dared to ask.

Her eyes lifted from the magazine, meeting his with a startling intensity.

"I don't know," she answered, her voice subtly quavering.

Keeping her gaze, he rose from his chair, setting down his tea without looking. She gasped softly when his hands alighted on her thighs, sliding up the fabric of her slacks before resting at her waist. All the while, his eyes held hers, looking deeply into them, as if he really were seeing into her soul. But then, she'd always felt that way when he looked at her.

"Jane—what-what are you doing?"

"Discovering if you are ticklish, of course." His fingers began a light, methodical exploration, up and down her sides, tracing the flatness of her stomach through the dark fabric of her blouse. Getting no reaction beyond the quickening of her breath, he walked his fingers up toward her armpits. He felt her tense, then smiled.

"Interesting," he murmured.

He moved on, hands gliding over her upper arms to her shoulders. He seemed to hold her in a sort of thrall; she didn't know if she was capable of looking away from the light green beauty of his eyes, glowing softly now in the lamplight as he touched her. When his hands moved to the bones of her clavicle, he stopped to study the dilation of her pupils, feeling his heart accelerating at the awakening desire he saw there.

His fingers moved again, up to her neck, then beneath her chin. This time, she cringed and pulled back slightly.

"Aw," he said simply, filing that information away.

When he resumed his exploration, his hands delved into her hair, fingers testing the sensitive skin around her ears. An involuntary smile dimpled her cheek and he smiled back; she'd helpfully given away yet another ticklish zone.

Reaching the end of propriety and the edge of his self-control, he reluctantly lowered his arms, but when he went to step back, she caught one of his hands in hers. It was his turn to be startled as she laced her fingers through his, keeping him from leaving her side.

"You're forgetting step number four," she said, her voice low and throaty. He hesitated, but the look on her face gave him courage to plow on:

"'Think of her mouth as a delicious peach. Devour its sweetness like the first warm taste on a summer's day…'" He had quoted it exactly.

For the first time since he'd gotten up from his chair, his eyes lowered, flicking down to her lips and darkening when they parted and he caught a glimpse of the tip of her pink tongue. He so wanted to follow it with his and discover the mysteries of her soft-looking mouth.

"Tempting," he whispered. "So very tempting…"

She was pulling him slowly closer by the hand, and he was letting her. Her head fell back as he loomed over her, and then his lips fell on hers like a man ravenous. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kisses hungrily, heat flashing through her body while she forgot all reason, forgot everything except where their mouths fused together and their hearts banged against their heaving chests.

Some minutes passed before Jane valiantly extricated himself from her embrace, both of them startled by the abrupt sound of the magazine hitting the floor. Jane looked dazedly down at the title: _Status-Quo. _The existing state of affairs. He grinned ironically and looked back up at an equally bemused Lisbon.

Her lips were plump from his kisses, her face delicately flushed, her breasts moving gently up and down with each ragged breath.

"I—I should go," she said.

He didn't argue with her, although he desperately wanted to remove each beguiling article of her clothing and push her down on the desk. He reached for her hands again to help her hop down to the floor. He didn't want her to think he regretted what they had done, for he didn't, but neither of them was ready for where a few more kisses like the last one might lead.

"Good night, Lisbon," he said.

He let her leave, noting happily that she was as reluctant as he was to stop what they'd begun, but there was an unspoken agreement that this was not their time, the attic of the CBI building definitely not their place. Still, in her eyes he saw the promise of things to come, a future he'd imagined but never believed could actually be.

Lisbon smiled shyly at him and moved toward the door. She was about to slide it shut again when she paused and looked back at him, still standing there, watching her.

"We never got to step five," she said in amusement. "What does it say?"

He looked at her a moment, debating; the words hovering on the tip of his tongue.

"Oh, we're definitely not ready for step number five," he told her instead.

She raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to let me be the judge of that."

"Okay. Another day."

"Another day. Good-night Jane."

And then she was gone, the old door clicking shut behind her.

Jane smiled, thinking how they had both thoroughly and irrevocably changed the status quo between them. He bent to pick up the magazine that had started it all, opening it idly to the dog-eared article. He flipped the page until he saw the last step that would drive her wild.

_Tell her you love her every day-not just with words, but in the way you look at her, touch her, do things for her, protect her, laugh with her, buy her gifts- even in the way you argue…_

He looked back over the rest of the list, realizing, that to some extent, he'd done many of those things in a seemingly platonic way for years. He always looked deeply into her eyes when they spoke; touched the small of her back when she preceded him from a room; touched her arm or her shoulder without realizing it. He'd even taken her hand once or twice. No wonder that when he'd finally had the courage to take the fourth step, she was more than ready for it—_eager_, actually. As for step five—well, once she heard that one, there would be no going back. She'd know for sure that he'd meant it when he'd voiced those three not so little words months before.

"Careful, Jane," he said aloud. "That last step is a lulu."

With a smile he opened the drawer and stowed the purloined magazine once more. He knew, however, that he wouldn't need to read that article again; he knew every word by heart.

**A/N: Looking forward with a mixture of excitement and trepidation to the next show, as I always do with a Red John episode. See you then! Thanks for reading.**


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